


It Used to be Worse Here

by MegGonagall



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Azkaban, Caught cheating, Cheating Scorpius, Community: HPFT, F/M, HPFT, M/M, Murder, POV Second Person, Partner Betrayal, Revenge, Scorbus, scorose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 22:06:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7010086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MegGonagall/pseuds/MegGonagall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              
<p></p><div>
  <p>Awesome Banner by floralprint at The-Dark-Arts.net<br/><img/><br/><em>It used to be worse here, at least, that's what they say. </em><br/></p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	It Used to be Worse Here

It used to be worse here, at least, that’s what they say. Although, you cannot see how. It's not as if you cannot still feel the ghost of their presence. It's not as if you cannot feel every morsel of hope and happiness leave your body, until the only things left are the bitter tastes of loneliness and despair, which painstakingly rest on the tip of your tongue. No, even though they are gone, you can still feel them in the walls; in your soul. Or what you have left of one.

You look through the barred windows and at the grey skies. They match the color of _his_ eyes so perfectly, it takes the breath right from your aging lungs. _Him._ The reason you are here. The reason hope, love and a future were taken from you.

You pick up a small twig and begin twirling it through your withered fingers. How foolish of them, you silently muse. Do they not realize this silly little piece of straw could aid you in escaping? But you know you won’t. You have no reason to, you think as you throw your would be weapon aside.

You sigh loudly and lean your head back against the cold, hard concrete wall. Your head throbs, as it does most days, so the coolness of the stone is more than welcome. Your eyes close as you attempt to massage the pain from your temples.

***

 

It was an unseasonably warm day in April. The sun was shining, birds were chirping and there was hardly a cloud in the sky. Your eyes watered and your throat felt itchy, but you would take allergies any day if it meant no rain or black skies.  It was a slow day at St. Mungo’s, so your head Healer told you to go home early. Enjoy the nice weather.

You were ecstatic, knowing that he would be home from work, yet not expecting you for a few more hours, so you stopped at your favorite restaurant and ordered your favorite dishes to go. You smiled to yourself once again at his favorite being the Dragon Roll. Of course it was, you chuckled to yourself.

As soon as you apparated into your kitchen, you could tell something was not right. There was a jacket resting on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. A female’s jacket. Your heart sank and you felt the bile rise up your throat when you recognized just who’s jacket that was. With a crash, you were vaguely aware of your dinner falling to the ground.

You heard them.

Your vision clouded over with rage and without a second thought, you marched straight towards your bedroom and blasted open the door - catching them right in the act. You felt the walls close in around you; you found it difficult to breathe. 

You would never forget the look on their faces. As she quickly sat up and covered herself, her cheeks perfectly matched her namesake. They took on the color of blood, which you both shared - yet apparently that meant nothing to _her_. She tried to explain and begged for you to listen her apology, but you refused. _Whore!_ You spat at her.

You began to tremble when you heard _his_ voice. Moisture filled your eyes as he pleaded with you and demanded you hear him out. Your tears finally brimmed over as you took in his disheveled blond hair and as you stared into his perfect grey eyes, you almost forgave him. Until _she_ spoke up once more.

At the sound of her voice, red was all you could see for a moment. That is, before blinding green light filled the room. You were not even fully aware of what happened; that it was you who knocked the light out of your fiance’s and your cousin’s eyes. Not until you looked down and noticed the vibrating wand in your trembling hand.

You turned around quickly. As you stood with your eyes fixed on the hardwood floor, ice water felt like it slowly oozed from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes and uncomfortably inside of your body; it encased your rapidly beating heart. You could not bear to look at what you had done, yet you lifted your gaze from the floor desipite yourself. As you did, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your messy black hair, and shocking green eyes – which were the exact copy of your father’s – still looked the same, yet somehow also different. Your skin was pale and your eyes looked just as vacant as theirs – on the floor.

Dread, shame, rage and despair took over, as you knew your father would be there shortly. You stood frozen, torn between waiting for his arrival, or trying to make a run for it. You shook your head as you realized that there would be no escape. This would be one mess that your father would not, or could not get you out of. You killed them. You knew it was true, even if it hadn’t sunken in yet. Their rigidly still, completely silent bodies told you as much.  

A strangled sob escaped your lips; it dawned on you that you would spend the rest of your life in Azkaban. You slowly sank down to the floor, wrapped your arms around your torso and comforted yourself in the thought that at least the Dementors were not there any longer.

***

 

Your eyes snapped open as you were woken by a terrible, blood-curdling scream. Even after all of these years, it always takes a few moments to realize the scream that woke you had come from _you_.

That’s when you have remind yourself – _It used to be worse here, at least, that’s what they say._


End file.
